


The Painted Lady

by WhiteWolfAngeni



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Deductions, Pregnant Molly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-03 20:18:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1756129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteWolfAngeni/pseuds/WhiteWolfAngeni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A copycat, butterflies, and a terrorist plot that could bring down London. Sherlock is on the case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> First time doing a sherlock fic. I hope people like it. The deductions are hard to do so apologies in advanced

As she walked up to 221B Baker street, she took in her surroundings. People bustling by to the tempo of the city's life. A man running down the street with a suitcase in tow, tie mangled and hurriedly donned, shirt mostly untucked. An Affair? As he passed his phone rang. "Hello Love. Yes I had a wonderful trip. I just got off the plane. Yes I will see you when I get home. Love you." As he passed close she noticed the lipstick stain on his collar. Definitely an affair. Traffic let up and she crossed the street. She walked up to her destination. A young man, homeless she would assume based off of his appearance and the way people treated him as they passed by. He was leaving a note under the door.

"I can take that up to him if you'd like."

"Who miss?" The man asked. He straightened having already placed his note.

"Never mind." She passed him 20 pounds.

"Thank you miss." He ran off. She waited till he was out of eyesight before pulling the note out. It was a woman's handwriting. Carefully written, the note was from a concerned party. She knocked on the door and waited. The door opened to reveal a little old woman.

"Hello you must be here for Sherlock. I am sorry but he is not talking to the press."

"I am not here for his story."

"Ah here on a case. Come in, Come in." The woman ushered her in looking around before closing the door."Bloody Press. Like Vultures they are." She started up the stairs. "He's upstairs." She followed the woman. "So you are American. What brings you so far from home?"

"I need his help with a project" The woman stopped in front of the door.

"He's in here."As she passed the woman reached out and touched her shoulder. "Good luck." The woman climbed back downstairs. She tentatively opened the door.

"John could you hand me my phone?" She walked into the flat. It was a mess but nothing too bad. "John my phone on the desk." She went to the desk and grabbed the phone. She turned to see him. He was sitting at the Kitchen table looking into a microscope arm out waiting for his phone. She handed him his phone along with the note. "Thank you John."

"I'm not John."

"Most definitely not." He looked up from his work. "American, age 19, Not a journalist, student at university then. You are not here for a story and you don't have a case. Why are you here?"

"Sarah Wilson. I'm here on a student visa researching James Moriarty. I thought who better to get information from than the man who went toe to toe with the man himself."

"You're a psychology student."

"Yes with a concentration in forensics." Sherlock turned back to his work. There was a long silence. 

"No." Sarah didn't have to ask. She knew that meant he was not going to talk to her. There was the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs.

"Sherlock, Mary said you texted and that it was urgent."

"What? Oh yes, in the Kitchen." John came around the corner.

"Oh you have a client."

"No I was just leaving. Sarah said as she headed towards the door. She stopped to pick up a squash ball off of the coffee table. "Interesting." She muttered.

"What?" Sherlock asked annoyed with her.

"That's how you did it. Good trick simple, but than all of the best magic tricks are."

"Pardon?"

"Nice show, a bit flashy." She tossed the ball at Sherlock who caught it. "Good day sir." She left the flat. Sherlock looked the ball over. It was the same one he had used to fake his death. He had kept it as a reminder. "Wait!" He scrambled out the door.

"Sherlock what is it?" John asked. Sherlock ran out of 221B Baker street searching all around for the girl. In an alley Sarah pulled out her phone.

**You will never believe who I just met.  
**


	2. Two years Later

"I'm going out" John Watson said to his wife.

"Alright tell Sherlock I said hello."

"How did you know I am going to see Sherlock?" Mary Popped her head out of the Kitchen.

"You are always going to see Sherlock." They Kissed. "Don't be out too late please."

"I will try not to." They kissed again.

"Come now off you go. You know how he gets if you are late."

"Oh do I ever." They kissed again before John ran out of the house. "Taxi!"

* * *

 John got out of the taxi to see Detective Inspector Lestrade getting out of his car. "Greg."

"John."

"You have a case?"

"Yeah. Sort of."

* * *

 "A letter arrived at the station today. I brought it with me." Lestrade handed it too Sherlock. [I am going to be murdered. Please get Sherlock.]

"A woman's handwriting. Who wrote this?"

"Sarah Wilson. She..." Lestrade's phone went off. "Hello? Where? On our way." Lestrade hung up his phone. "Our victim Sarah Wilson has just been shot. I have officers on the way now. Are you coming?"

"Yes. I will meet you there." Lestrade ran out of the flat. "Come along John." Sherlock grabbed his coat and they both left the flat. Sarah's letter lay open on the floor.

* * *

Sherlock and John climbed out of the taxi. They crossed the police line into the alley. Lestrade stopped talking to one of his officers and came up to the two. "According to witnesses Sarah was running from her attackers. They cornered her in this alley and shot her." Sherlock looked down the alley. There was a lot of blood and footprints but no body. "The man who called us was a retired officer. He shot at them before calling us." Sherlock bent down to examine the blood and footprints.

"Two men about 5'10 and 5'6, judging by the size of their footprints. There is another set, barefoot, the victims."

"Cut her feet while running?"

"Yes and no. There is too much blood in the print. She must have still been alive when they were scared off. Where did you find her body?"

"We haven't."

"What?"

"No body. Prints end not far from here."

"Show me." They followed the trail to a larger puddle in the street a couple of blocks away.

"Trail ends here."

"Clever girl" The puddle had red in it from her blood. "She washed off the blood in an attempt to cover her tracks."

"So where did she go?"

"No clue, someplace familiar maybe? No too obvious, she's clever. Someplace no one would think to look. What else can you tell me about her?"

"She's American, twenty-two, just moved here two years ago. Lives on James street."

"What is she doing over here?" John asked.

"No idea. I have got everyone at my disposal out looking for her. With that amount of blood loss she can't have gotten far." Sherlock left the puddle.

"Thank you. Come along John."

"Where are we going?"

"Back to Baker street. Taxi!"

* * *

 Sherlock and John arrived at Baker Street to Mrs. Hudson running out to them. "Sherlock! what have you done?" Mrs. Hudson looked hysterical. Sherlock bolted out of the taxi and into the flat. John paid the driver and then tried to calm Mrs. Hudson.

When Sherlock entered the flat there was a trail of blood leading upstairs to 221B. He followed the trail to his door which was wide open, a bloody hand print on the door handle. Sherlock found her lying face down in the floor. He immediately called the paramedics and began looking for her pulse. "Dear God is that her?" John joined him at the young woman's side. "Help me flip her over. I need to see the wound." Sherlock began to turn her. "Wait."John ran and grabbed a towel from the Kitchen. "We don't want her losing more blood." As Sherlock turned the woman, John pressed the towel into the wound in her chest. "There is no exit wound so the bullet is still inside her." There was the sound of people stomping up the stairs.

"Medics." Mrs. Hudson announced. The two men rushed to the woman's side and began to mover her onto a stretcher.

"You got here awfully fast."

"We happened to be close by." Sherlock moved to the window as they worked. The medics lifted her up and carried her downstairs to an ambulance waiting outside.

" John how tall would you say those men were?"

"Over 5'4 I would imagine."

"And what medic would carry a gun?"

"None that I know...Oh God did we...?"

"yes."

"And You knew?"

"I just figured it out." Sherlock ran outside.

"Sherlock!" John came running up behind him. The ambulance was pulling away.

"Come along John. Follow that ambulance."

"I'm getting to old for this." As they followed the Ambulance they called Lestrade.

"WE are in pursuit of and ambulance going down Baker street heading away from St. Barts Hospital. The kidnapper's have your victim." Sherlock hung up his phone and picked up speed. The ambulance was just driving along and was struck by some thing. It turned over onto it's side. Sherlock and John ran closer. There was an explosion as they got closer. It knocked the two backwards. Their heads rang with the force of the blast. John was out first. Sherlock was last to lose consciousnesses. The last thing he saw was a pair of black shoes and the end of an umbrella.

"Sorry brother dear." His vision flooded black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think.


End file.
